


Common Roots

by jeleania



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: (...somebody's got a crush... hehehe), Gen, Languages, Pookan, gaelic, hint of fae?, more like mention of fae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 23:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1244140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeleania/pseuds/jeleania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Bunny find something they have in common, something that may bring a big change in their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Common Roots

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a while back for a friend (sorry it took me so long to post this Jay) but there was something that I didn't quite like about it. Still not completely happy with it, but I'm tired of fighting with it.
> 
> Hence, post.
> 
> Hope y'all like it!

* * *

 

It was late summer, about mid-August in fact, and E. Aster Bunnymund, known to friends as Bunny and children as the Easter Bunny, was officially in his off-season.

 

His holiday had gone extremely well, the lights on his globe more than doubling, the belief in him worldwide reigniting in the hearts of ankle biters everywhere. The clean up and planting of the newest crop of egg-bearing plants had long since been done, so until about mid-autumn, there was little that needed to be done in preparation of his big day. A bit of weeding and watering was easily and quickly completed each day, leaving the Pooka plenty of time for other pursuits. There were new flavors of chocolate to create or experiment on old ones, the world beyond the Warren had plants with brilliant colors for him to find and cultivate in his expansive gardens, and he could even go visit the other Guardians, their friendships stronger than ever nowadays.

 

But his favorite past-time was his art, sketching or painting for the sheer enjoyment of it, as he was doing at the moment with the oil painting on the easel before him, a gorgeous sunset setting a cloud bank aflame over a picturesque valley that he'd witnessed a few days before forming under his skilled brushes.

 

 

One of his long ears twitched and turned slightly to his left as a snatch of music caught his attention. Peering toward the source from the corner of an eye, Aster felt something in him relax at the sight. Sprawled on the grass of the Warren was a long-limbed white haired teenager, the winter spirit absently humming a tune as he created one fragile yet beautiful snowflake after another on a fingertip. The unique ice crystals would drift gently away on a breeze to melt over one plant or another, the bit of moisture wouldn't do the flora any harm, and the Pooka honestly couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed about the whole thing.

 

Jack had been a great help these past two years since becoming a Guardian, whether it be with Easter preparation or bringing the Big Four closer together or helping them find ways to interact more with the children. Taking the time to actually get to know the youngster, Aster had found that they had more in common than he ever expected. Also, there were many traits behind that trickster front Jack showed to the world which Aster found himself respecting, even admiring. There was a great deal more to the teen than the troublemaker the lagomorph had originally thought him to be.

 

Green eyes idly panned over the other spirit, moving upward from the bare toes that Jack often used to pick up items or curl around his staff. Then there were the long lean legs, the brown fabric of tattered pants doing little to hide the sleek muscles in those calves with twine wrapped around them and strong thighs toned by all the time their owner would crouch rather than just sit like most people. The baggy blue hoodie hid most of the torso and arms, but a sliver of pale skin teased a viewer as Jack stretched his arms above his head for a moment. Atop the curve of his neck was an almost fey-looking face with startling blue eyes, wild yet lovely pale hair, and lips that looked so soft and sweet that Aster wanted to lean over to see if they tasted -

 

Ripping his gaze from the nature spirit, Aster firmly pushed his wandering thoughts into a box, hoping the other hadn't noticed his distraction. He had no clue if Jack would even be interested in a humanoid rabbit older than the planet and from a completely different galaxy, and he wasn't going to ponder it right now. Refocusing his attention on the painting before him, the Pooka blinked at the streaks of blue that had appeared among his golds and reds, which was not where that shade was supposed to be. Scowling, he grabbed another brush and turned to his palette, a string of curses falling from his lips as he tried to repair his artwork.

 

"Wait a minute, what did you say?" came a voice surprisingly deeper than the seventeen year old body it belonged to.

 

"Huh?" The Pooka turned his head to look at his companion, lowering the hand holding the brush before he mangled the landscape further.

 

Jack was sitting up, head tilted as he waved a hand at the furry being. "What you said. That language. What was it?"

 

Mentally going over what had been spilling from his mouth a moment ago, Aster straightened slightly as realization hit. "Oh, that was Pookan. My native tongue."

 

"Repeat it."

 

"What?" His face scrunched into a frown of confusion.

 

"Just -" The winter spirit groped at the air a second before continuing. "Just talk. In that language. Like - um - tell me about what you're doing, about the painting or your paints or something. Just talk in Pookan."

 

Giving the teen an odd look, Aster shrugged and decided to go along with the request. The syllables rolled off his tongue with ease despite how long it had been since he'd spoken the language of his people, the ache of old grief thankfully absent from his chest as he rambled. "Well, the scene is this sunset I saw. I messed up a bit, put blue where it didn't belong. This particular shade of blue is more appropriate for the distant mountains, dusky and soft like. I need something darker and richer for the twilight sky, a hue that does proper justice to the night sky. It's best to do the work with one of these brushes, they're from the hair of -"

 

Jack leaned forward as the sounds dripped like honey from the artist's lips, eyes narrowed and head cocked to one side as he listened hard. A distracted wave of his hand cut the outpouring of words, the noises echoing in his ears and sparking connections in his mind. Licking his lips, he slowly said, "You're - you said something about the - the dying of the sun? And shades of blush? No, blue. Shades of blue." His brows furrowed as he ran over the syllables in his head. "And bristles? And doing honor to the stars?"

 

Aster blinked once, twice, then shook his head as if it would help his thoughts pull themselves together. "Yeah, more or less. But - how?"

 

Letting the start of a smirk curve his lips, the spirit of winter opened his mouth and said, "The mountains are topped with snow every winter, though it's summer rather than winter now. The trees are really beautiful this time of year, but they're really nice in the autumn, all shades of gold and red as far as the eye can see. It's part of my job to help the change of the colors along, there's a lot more to being Winter than most realize."

 

His jaw dropping, the Pooka sat still and stunned, not sure what he was feeling as the words reached his long ears. There were differences as if it coated in a heavy accent and a slightly different dialect, but the syllables echoed of the tongue thought long dead. The form of the vowels, the cadence of sounds, the tones and emphasis on certain parts - it was different yet similar, a child born from a parent he knew to the depths of his heart. He got bits and pieces, but they were more than he'd heard since coming to this planet. Mountains and trees, the change of the seasons and the duties of winter.

 

It all woke memories of a people he'd lost ages ago in a galaxy far from this planet. Memories flickered through his head, sparked to life by the noises flowing from Jack's throat -  of his father telling tales of the changing of the seasons, of his grandmother teaching him of the way to use color to create works of beauty, of the village elder lecturing he and other youngsters of their duties to their people. Once the winter spirit stopped talking, it took Aster a few long moments to whisper, "What - what was that?"

 

"Gaelic." was the answer, a soft sad little smile on Jack's face as he explained. "It's nearly a dead language nowadays, not many still use it. But it's the one I grew up speaking, you know, in my mortal life."

 

Swallowing hard, Aster repeated, "Gaelic."

 

"Yep." Jack nodded, eyes lowered and watching his fingers play with his sweater cuffs, the intensity of his friend's gaze making him fight off a blush. Needing to fill the charged silence, he babbled, "You see, my family was Irish. We immigrated from Ireland when I was six, there was religious stuff going on and my parents wanted a fresh start. While we had to learn English to talk to other people, in the privacy of our home, we spoke Gaelic. It was what my sister and I spoke our first words in, what my father lectured about shepherding and my mother taught me my letters with, what my grandfather told stories in before he died. Heh, it was the only language Grandfather would use, he refused to learn English, he was very proud of our heritage, my parents were too. Even though we had left the Emerald Isle, we held on to our legends and traditions, kept our culture alive in the New World."

 

Nodding thoughtfully, the Pooka asked, "Ireland? Is it still spoken there?"

 

Relieved to see the Easter spirit calmer, Jack shrugged, "Some. There's variants in Scotland and other nearby areas. Like I said, it's not used much anymore. But Pookan, it reminds me of Gaelic. Like how Spanish and Italian have similarities thanks to sharing a Latin base, you know?"

 

"Yeah, I see it." Aster responded.

 

Frowning a touch as his thoughts carried onward, Jack mused aloud, "I wonder how that happened. I mean, did you wander around over there? Or teach Pookan to the fae of something?"

 

"The fae? What do they have to do with this?" The Pooka shot back, a tad insulted and upset at the thought of spreading his native tongue about. It was personal, and just anyone couldn't go about mangling his people's language, thank you very much.

 

"Hmm?" The winter spirit blinked as he was pulled from his mental wool-gathering. "Oh, the fae. There were a lot of them in Ireland. Mind you, by the time I was born, most had gone Underhill, deciding to stay in the Fae realms rather than the mortal one. But some were still around. Mostly shapeshifters, some connected to nature as well..."

 

Aster watched as blue eyes went wide, their owner trailing off as something akin to realization slowly unfurling on his face. Curious, he prodded, "What?"

 

"Fae. Shapeshifters. Nature oriented." He had to stop and take a steadying breath, nerves making his fingers tremble and heart race. Cautiously, Jack voiced the suspicion his mind had lead him to, not sure how the being before him would take it. "There was a legend of a shapeshifting fae. They would aid in tending the crops, and farmers would leave them a portion of the harvest each year in gratitude and tribute. They were known to take the shape of horses, dogs, and large rabbits with the occasional human form. They were - they were called Puca."

 

A seed of hope - bright yet oddly painful hope - sprouted in his heart, the frailest of pale green shoots breaking free of the hard shell. Taking a deep steadying breath of his own, Aster exhaled, "Alright. Alright then."

 

"The spelling is different, and we don't have anything concrete, but..." Jack gnawed on his bottom lip a moment, then offered, "I know where the gates to the Fae realm are. I keep track of any fae who cross over to the mortal realm, make sure they don't cause trouble, you know?"

 

"Part of your hunting duties?" Aster questioned, glad to be on sturdier ground with the mention of Jack's other job of ...taking care of spirits or beings or magical creatures who upset the balance of nature. Mind you, Jack had the habit of taking out nasty things that fed on humans as well, no matter their effect on nature itself.

 

"Yeah, there's some bloodthirsty ones over there. Different morals and all that." Flicking a hand as if tossing aside the thought of the nastier horror-story type of fae, Jack continued. "Point is, I've had to go and ...discuss matters with the Courts before, remind them of the laws laid down in the Treaties. Or get back captives or a kid switched with a changling. Either way, I know my way around the Fae realm. I won't really have the free time until after Northern Winter, but, if you want..."

 

"We can search the Fae realms for Pooka. See if they're - if they're -" Aster couldn't finish speaking the words aloud, the chance, however small, of not being the Last Pooka too fragile and precious to be voiced aloud.

 

"We'll find out." Feeling brave, Jack reached over and lay a supportive hand on one clenched like-a-paw-but-not hand, firmly pushing the little voice babbling happily over how soft the fur under his fingers was aside as now was Not The Time. "One way or another, we'll find out. Gotta have hope, right?"

 

The small but genuine smile that curved Aster's lips and warmed those amazing green eyes was all the answer the winter spirit needed.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> so, there we are.
> 
> may write more (either here or in another piece) about Jack's other job(s) and hunting for pucas/pookas [be vewy quiet, we're hunting wabbits] and Jackrabbit goodness, but this is where this one wanted to end.


End file.
